


How (Not) To Start A War

by Fierystorm22



Series: DBZ AUFT [2]
Category: Dragon Ball Z
Genre: F/M, Mirai Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierystorm22/pseuds/Fierystorm22
Summary: “Three, two, one!” He activated the machine. It began to quake. Everything outside went dark, with colors swirling around them. It only lasted about ten seconds before the world materialized around them again. Without wasting any time, Trunks popped open the time machine, and Goku jumped out.“Can’t wait to see the Burama of this age!” Goku enthusiastically said, heading immediately toward the Brief’s front door.“Wait, uh, Goku, wait! You might give my mom a heart attack. Let me expla-!”“G-Goku?”That’s a familiar—oh no!Coming out of the Brief’s house was Chichi, followed closely by Burama. Both immediately fainted, though Goku rushed to catch Chichi.





	How (Not) To Start A War

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of Mirai Trunks returning to his own timeline, with Usaii in tow, plans brewing as he realizes he doesn't have to be so alone anymore.   
> This story will be MUCH darker than the original, as I will not be working with minors as characters.

_Usaii groaned slightly, pulling on her hair as she did. “Trunks, I can’t do this! You don’t understand, I’m not a fighter!” She’d been knocked down once again by one of his foot-sweeps._

_He stared down at her. “Usaii, if you’re going to survive in my world, you need to learn to fight. You’re more powerful than you give yourself credit for; you just need to believe in yourself.”_

_She stood, brushing herself off. “I’m not like Serazai. I’ve never taken a beaten like her, and, to be honest, I don’t know that I could!”_

_“You_ can _do this. You_ asked _me to train you; that’s what I’m doing.”_

_“I didn’t know it would be so—so hard!”_

_“It’s_ fighting _, Usaii. What did you expect?”_

           

 _That memory. . . . Why do I keep thinking about it?_ Usaii wondered, studying the piece of machinery in front of her. In their year in the HTC, Trunks _had_ turned her into a fighter, but once she’d come out, she’d discovered she was a much better scientist. Trunks had taught her several things in the HTC, and she’d come out wanting to know more. The more she learnt, the more she wanted to learn. “Trunks?”

            He looked up from the table he sat at, reading. “Hm? Yea, Usaii?”

            “You remember our first week in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?”

            He smiled slightly. “I remember.”

            “You wouldn’t give up on me. No matter how much I told you to.” She turned then, looking at him, taking in his relaxed demeanor.

            Lavender hair falling around his face, legs propped up on the table, book in his hands, he looked so at home, yet so out of place. _That’s right,_ Usaii remembered. _He’s not from this time._ “It worked, didn’t it? You came out a fighter.”

            She nodded. “I did. I just. . . . I keep thinking about it. Why didn’t you give up on me?” She walked closer to him, pausing at the table, shifting her weight.

            He frowned. “It was something Gohan said, before we went in, after he came out with Sera. He said, she’d come out a completely different person, more sure of herself, but what made him happy was that he’d pushed her out of her comfort zone. Her comfort zone was fighting, being beaten, pain. He said, he’d forced her to read, to learn, to play, and that was the best thing he could’ve done. Your comfort zone, it’s being in the background. Pretending you don’t exist. I wanted you to come out of your comfort zone, because Gohan was right. Sera came out a much better person for it.”

            She frowned now, too, thinking about it. Her little sister, though she’d seen little of her, _had_ come out happier, better. She’d gotten stronger, even Usaii had been able to tell that, but she’d gotten . . . younger, instead of older. She’d acted a bit more her own age, rather than the oldest of them all. “And do you think I came out better?” she asked softly.

            He smiled then. “You stopped calling me master. When Vegeta snaps at you, you snap back. You don’t flinch when you hear yelling. And if someone were to raise their hand at you now, what would you do?”

            She didn’t even have to think about it. “Fight back. I may not win, but I won’t be a victim anymore.”

            “You’re better for it.”

            She sat opposite him at the table. “Are _you_?”

            “I’d like to think so, yes. I’m stronger now. Even just training you, I became stronger.”

            She fell silent as she thought over everything he’d just said. “Trunks, the me from your timeline, and my family from that timeline. . . .Do you think . . . do you think they exist still?”

            “I’m sure they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

            “Everything you’ve said rings true. We _are_ better off, with you guys. And they’re my family, even if they’re from another timeline. . . . Do you think there’s a way we could, I don’t know, _save them_?”

            He jolted slightly, obviously not having thought of that. Putting the book down, he sat up straight, dropping his legs from the table. “Usaii. . . . If I could do that, you know I would, right? I _would_ save you, if I could, but how can I? It’s just me. Alone. I’d need _help_ to go against your father.”

            “What if we don’t have to go against my father? What if we can just sneak in and sneak them out?”

            “Even then, it would have to be more than just me, and just you.”

            She fell silent again, thinking. “Trunks. . . . You told me about the Dragon Balls. Are they really able to bring back anyone from the dead?”

            He nodded. “Yes, they are.”

            “Then why haven’t you ever tried to use them in _your_ time?”

           

 

Preparing to say goodbye to everyone, even if for such a short time, really was a hard thing to do. Though Trunks promised everyone, and himself, that he would return, he wondered if he really would. If he could get the Z-Fighters back in _his_ timeline—and why not?—would he even _need_ to come back?

            No, he wouldn’t need to, but he’d want to. He’d made friends here. He’d want to see them again. Besides, maybe they’d like to meet their future counterparts, just as he’d met his past? Or would that screw up the space-time continuum bullshit?

            Eh, who knew? It didn’t matter to Trunks right now. What mattered was he had a solid plan, and he had Usaii to think. She’d proposed a plan, a plan that he full-heartedly endorsed once he’d heard it all. Why had he never thought of—why had _his mom_ never thought of it? Goku himself couldn’t be wished back—the Dragon couldn’t restore a natural death. But the others, he could bring the others back. And with Usaii’s help, he wouldn’t have to do it all alone.

            He’d even talked it out with Goku, who’d consulted King Kai, and he’d said the Z-Fighters would still be able to be wished back, because all of them had saved the Earth at one point, so their souls still existed in training places. Goku had also helped by helping Burama chart out Namek’s position, so that Trunks and Usaii could find it in his timeline. After some parting words of advice, and telling him how to handle Grand Elder Moori. He was supposed to tell him Goku and his friends had died, and he needed help reviving them on Earth, so please, could he use their Dragon Balls to do so?

            Goku had told him there was a chance he would not allow it, but to keep begging until he gave in.

            “How do I look?” Usaii’s voice drew him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw her standing a few feet from his time machine. She was dressed in red and black, in an outfit that somewhat reminded him of a sheriff. Knee-high boots, red pants, a brown and black corset, and a black and red crop-top. The outfit was completed by a belt with a star buckle, and a hat. Her long brown hair had been brushed into shining curtains around her body, and her big brown eyes captured him for a moment.

            His mouth went dry. “Usaii?”

            She ducked her head slightly. “Your mom helped me decide what to wear.”

            “You look . . . you look good.”

            She blushed slightly. “Are you ready to go, Trunks?”

            He nodded, a bit too fast. Turning quickly, he gestured toward his time machine. “I-I’m ready. Let’s go. We’ll need to hurry. Mom won’t have much time to try to make the ship mom—my other mom—blueprinted out for us. You have that blueprint, right?”

            She nodded. “Yup. I have it.”

            “Good. Good, great. We should-!”

            “Wait!” A voice rang out, and Goku popped out of nowhere, probably having teleported. “I think it would be easier if I go with you. I can take you directly to Namek. It would be faster, and Grand Elder Moori would be more likely to help me.”

            Trunks ignored the stab of disappointment he felt, realizing he’d wanted to go alone with Usaii, but also realizing Goku was right. “Okay. I guess we don’t need the blueprints, or the map.”

            “We should bring them anyway. They might come in handy.”

            “Uh, how are we all gonna fit in that thing, anyway?”

            And that was how Usaii had been forced onto Trunks’ lap, while Goku crammed into the tiny space left over behind Trunks’ chair. Having to operate around Usaii’s small, supple body was harder than Trunks would’ve thought—and it made it nearly impossible to concentrate. “Luckily,” he said, voice breaking slightly so that he had to clear his throat, “luckily, it’s a quick trip.”

            “Good. If it was long, I think I’d be stuck in this position,” Goku said, attempting to shift to a more comfortable position, but instead, elbowing Trunks’ shoulder.      

            “Three, two, one!” He activated the machine. It began to quake. Everything outside went dark, with colors swirling around them. It only lasted about ten seconds before the world materialized around them again. Without wasting any time, Trunks popped open the time machine, and Goku jumped out.

            “Can’t wait to see the Burama of _this_ age!” Goku enthusiastically said, heading immediately toward the Brief’s front door.

            “Wait, uh, Goku, wait! You might give my mom a heart attack. Let me expla-!”

            “G-Goku?”

            _That’s a familiar—oh no!_

Coming out of the Brief’s house was Chichi, followed closely by Burama. Both immediately fainted, though Goku rushed to catch Chichi.

 

 

“Tell me about Gohan again. He’s okay?” Chichi asked for the millionth time.

            Goku nodded. “Gohan _destroyed_ Cell. Cell’s gone, and the Androids are on our side now. Kinda. They’re not a threat anymore.”

            Chichi jumped up, grabbing Goku’s shirt. “You’d better not let those nasty Androids kill my son again!” she yelled, shaking him.

            “Whoa, Chichi, it’s okay! Gohan’s stronger than me now! Nothing’s going to beat him any time soon. He’s okay.”

            Letting him go reluctantly, she sat back down. “Is he keeping up with his studies?” she asked dismally.

            He nodded. “Of course he is.”

            “And how big is he now?”

            “He’s ele-well, wait, twelve.”

            “Twelve? He’s supposed to be ten.”

            “Yea, well, he went into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber twice. It aged him two years.”

            She chewed on her thumbnail. “He’d be twenty-seven now. . . .”

            “Chichi, mom, listen, I have to talk to you about something else. Goku and I, we can’t stay. We have to go.”

            “Go?” Chichi looked up at that. “Go where? I haven’t even made supper.”

            “We can stay for that,” Goku said, “but then, we should go.”

            “No, listen. Mom, please.”

            “Trunks, please, it may not be _our_ Goku, but it’s still Goku. Just,” Burama pleaded with him, “just give us some time. Okay?”

            He gave in then, sliding down to sit in his chair. “Alright, but please, can I at least tell you what we’re doing? Why he’s here?”

            “Yes, Goku, why _are_ you here?”

            “Well, Trunks and Usaii—that’s Usaii, by the way,” he pointed to the silent, mostly ignored girl—they’d mostly been drooling over Goku, “they had a great idea. I’m going to take them to Namek, and we’re going to wish everyone back to life.”

            “But . . . _you_ can’t come back, can you?” Burama asked unevenly.

            He shook his head. “No, but everyone else can. Piccolo, Tien, Kuririn,” he looked at Chichi, “Gohan.”

            She shot back up, grabbing his shirt to shake him again. “You better go! You don’t have time to waste here, go wish my baby back!”

            “What about dinner?” Goku whined.

            “I’ll go get the Dragon Radar,” Burama said hurriedly, smiling when she realized Vegeta would be brought back. She went to her kitchen drawer, opened it, and rummaged around for a few minutes before pulling out a round, metal device. Blowing the dust off it, she walked it over to Goku. “Goku, if it’s not too much to ask, can we come with you guys? It’s been a long time since I’ve been on an adventure, and I really . . . I want to spend more time with you, Goku.”

            Trunks started to say something when Usaii said, “You can come, we might need the help. If you’re anything like the other you,” she smiled as Burama looked at her, “we can use your brains.”

            Burama laughed. “Oh, I like this one. Who is she, Trunks? I forgot to ask.”

            “She’s Usaii. She’s kinda my arranged bride from Goku’s timeline.”

            “Your what?” Her laughter faded as she took in the girl. “Explain.”

            “I will, but on the way, okay? Let’s get ready.”         

            “Chichi, do you want to stay here?”

            “And miss seeing my son brought back? No way! I’m going!”

 

A few hours passed while everyone readied for their trip to Namek. By the time everyone was ready, they’d pretty much gotten used to Goku being there, and Burama had already warmed up to Usaii, having felt bad for the girl’s story. Though she’d told Trunks not to marry anyone—yet—he could see a peculiar look on her face when she regarded the both of them together.

            It wasn’t long before they were standing before Grand Elder Moori. Goku bowed to the Elder. “Hi. I’m Goku.”

            “Goku. Ah, yes. I remember you. How are you?”

            “Well, actually, I’m in a bit of trouble, and I was hoping you could help.”

            Moori’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve felt the Earth’s struggle, but I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to help you.”

            “Actually, there is. Two things, actually. The Earth’s Guardian died a long time ago. We need someone who’s willing to become Guardian for us, and . . . we really, really need to use your Dragon Balls.”  

            “Why would you need that?”

            “We need to wish some people back to life. My son, he died three years ago. The Earth really, really needs him. We need three people wished back to life. The rest, we can wait for.”

            He regarded him silently. “Normally, I would say no to that request, but your son, Gohan? Dende is great friends with him. Dende?”

            A younger Namekian stepped forward. He was quite tall now, much taller than his other timeline’s counterpart. “Yes, Grand Elder Moori?” the young Nemekian asked.

            “I want you to answer this man’s request. Whatever Dende tells you, I will stick by.”

            So Goku repeated his question to Dende, whose eyes immediately teared up. “Go-Gohan’s dead . . . ? How? Why!?”

            “The Androids killed him,” Trunks supplied. “And we need help defeating them. We need our old friends back, or we can’t defeat them.”

            “So you need our Dragon Balls, and a new Guardian of Earth. I’ve always wanted to be a Guardian. Grand Elder Moori, can I do it?” He looked to the Elder.

            “Is that what you wish?”

            “Yes, Grand Elder Moori.”

            “Then that is your answer.”

            “As for the Dragon Balls, of course. You saved all of us, we can save some of you.”

            Grand Elder Moori nodded. “Agreed. Bring forth your Dragon Balls!”

            And seven Namekians immediately left to gather their individual Dragon Ball, piling them in a circle.

            “I had the feeling you’d be by eventually, Goku. Why you didn’t show up before, I’ll never know,” Grand Elder Moori told him when he’d seen their surprised faces. “I had the Dragon Balls gathered a long time ago, in preparation of your visit.”

            “Well, Grand Elder Moori,” Goku stammered, “the truth is, in this timeline, I’m actually dead. Trunks’ mom built a time machine, and . . . he came back to my time, and here I am.”

            “I see. Well, that is most sad, Goku, to know that you’ve passed. Please, wish yourself back.”

            “I can’t. I died of natural causes.”

            The Namekians drew in a breath. “I am sorry to hear that, Goku. You were a great help to us. I wish there was something we could do for you.”

            “You’ve done plenty, Grand Elder Moori,” he told him, smiling and bowing at the same time. Turning to Trunks, he said, “Ready?”

            “Ready.”

            “Ready,” Chichi and Burama echoed.

            “Ready!” Usaii said, clasping her hands.

            “Dende, if you would be so kind . . . ?”

            Dende stepped up to the Dragon Balls, speaking the Namekain call. When the Dragon sprang free, he turned toward the others. “Who do you wish for first?”

            “Gohan!”

 

 

 Gohan found himself in an unfamiliar place, blinking as light faded from his eyes. He’d been blinded by a weird light while he’d been training with Piccolo on King Kaio’s planet. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the next thing he knew, someone had thrown themselves at him, wrapping their arms around his neck and making a weird sobbing noise.

            _Someone’s crying. . . ._

            The light faded more, and he blinked again. Faces surrounded him, most unfamiliar, some familiar, and he blinked when he saw one particular face. “Father?” he breathed. Looking down, he saw it was his mother who had wrapped herself around him, crying uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around her, but looked up to stare at the man he swore was his father.

            “Yes, Gohan. I’m here. Not for long, but I’m here.”

            “Dad? Wh-what are you doing here?”

            “Mom built a time machine, and I went back in time. He came here to help us wish you back.” Trunks smiled at his former mentor, noticing that while Gohan _had_ been dead, he _hadn’t_ been slacking in training. His power had more than doubled since last he’d seen him.

            “How long are you going to be here?” Gohan asked his father.

            “Well, I thought maybe, we could take some time and do some training together in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. What do you think, Gohan?”

            Gohan’s eyes widened, glistening. “I would really like that.”

            “Okay,” Burama broke in. “Next, Vegeta.”

            “Vegeta?” Dende asked, stepping back.

            “Oh, it’s not like that anymore, Dende. Vegeta actually turned into a really, _really_ good guy, especially in my timeline,” Goku told him. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count!”

            “Are you sure?” Dende asked.

            “Please,” Burama said, almost desperately. “Bring back my Vegeta.” Her voice broke on “my,” and Trunks glanced at her in surprise.

            Dende turned toward the Dragon, speaking once again to it. A moment later, Vegeta appeared, blinking away the bright light as Gohan had done. “What in the blazes—why am I surrounded by green people again?”

            And following Chichi’s example, Burama launched across the clearing to throw herself into Vegeta’s arms.

            He’d seen her coming before she’d reached him, Trunks had known he had, but he hadn’t reacted, not the way he’d thought he would. Instead of telling the woman he’d bred a child with to calm herself, he seemed to slightly open himself up to the attack, and, fast enough Trunks almost missed it, a look of happy contentment crossed his face.

_Wow. My dad really loves her. Even now._

            Vegeta pushed her away after a moment. “Get a hold of yourself, woman! What are you groveling for?”

            _That’s the Vegeta I know,_ Gohan found himself thinking.

            Trunks smiled. “Hi, Father.”

            Vegeta turned to look at his grown son. “Hmp. You look like her.” He jerked his chin toward Burama.

            Burama smacked him. “Hush yourself! He’s _lucky_ to look like me.”

            “Yea, as lucky as a slug who’s just found salt.”

            Trunks grinned. “It’s nice to meet you again.”

            “Again? What are you on about?”

            “Piccolo,” Gohan said suddenly. “Please. Bring Piccolo next.”

            And Piccolo was the third, and last, for the Namekian balls to bring back.

            “But can we wish Kuririn and the others who have been wished back already back again?” Gohan asked, looking around at his friends. “We can’t leave them there.”

            “We can,” Goku told him, “but it’ll take one hundred days to make new Dragon Balls. Right, Dende?”

            He nodded. “Right. I can make new Dragon Balls that can wish them back to life—but they can only do so once.”

            “Once is enough,” Piccolo said, looking toward Gohan. “We’ll take care of those Androids once and for all once everyone’s back.” Then, belatedly, he saw Goku. “What the—what are you doing here? The Dragon Balls can’t bring anyone back who died of a natural illness.”

            “I’m not back. I’m from the past. I’ll explain it all later.”

 

 

Gohan sat under the stars, breathing in the fresh, living air for the first time in three years. Something flew at him. He snatched it from the air before it could hit him, looking down to see an apple. Looking further down, he saw Trunks smiling up at him from the ground.

            “How’s it feel, having both arms again?”

            “Pretty good, actually,” Gohan replied. “How’s it feel, being the stronger one now?”

            “I’m not,” Trunks said, jumping up into the tree to land on the branch with Gohan. “You just don’t know it yet.”

            “Right. Little me killed Cell. So in that timeline, I’m the most powerful.”

            “Yup. You’re a bad ass, Gohan.” He grinned, taking a bite of the apple as Gohan swatted at him. “You just need to reach that, I think. If you can, there’s no telling what we can do here.”

            “You’ve grown so much stronger, Trunks,” he told the younger boy, eyes shining. “I’m so proud of you.”

            “Thanks. You haven’t slacked either, you know. You’re more than twice what you were here.”

            “Yea, well, with Piccolo and Vegeta pushing me on from the Otherworld, how could I not be?” He chuckled. “But I’m not nearly what I am in that world.”

            “Maybe not,” Trunks said, watching him bite into his apple, “but you need to be,” he told him.

            “And why’s that? From what I can feel, you’ve got those Androids totally outclassed.” Gohan had spoken jokingly, but the look he gave Trunks was not joking. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

            He nodded. “We didn’t want Goku to know, but there’s another reason we brought you all back. We need your help. See, there’s this guy. . . .”


End file.
